


No One Steals From The Devil

by violent_ends



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealous Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), POV Chloe, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 13:24:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20154319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends/pseuds/violent_ends
Summary: Chloe notices that Lucifer's eyes turn red whenever he gets particularly jealous and possessive of her, so she decides to push him over the edge, because why the hell not.





	No One Steals From The Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Translation: Lucifer is hot when his eyes are red, we all know it, so it's only fair we write about it.

The first time it happens, they are at the grocery store. Chloe is fairly sure Lucifer almost never buys his own groceries: it's more likely that whoever keeps Lux full of booze also purchases what he needs and puts it in his refrigerator. The environment doesn't go well with his bespoke suits, to say the least, but they are so… _domestic_, now. Chloe still goes by herself most of the time, but sometimes Lucifer decides that he doesn't want to be away from her even though they just spent the entire day working together, so he follows along.

It's not like he helps, of course. Mostly, he pushes the shopping cart around and waits for Chloe to find what she needs, making dirty jokes about an oddly shaped vegetable every once in a while. Or he occupies his time at the fruit stand popping strawberries into his mouth, loudly, sinfully, until a store clerk comes to reprimand him or ask him to pay – it never goes as they plan, of course, and it doesn't matter if they are a man or a woman: Lucifer always finds a way to make them laugh or blush or squirm or all of those combined, getting away with it, with everything, with his smug, sexy, irresistible grin. _The bastard._  
  
Chloe lets him, because he is surprisingly good at monogamy, but deep down she knows he misses the thrill of seduction. It doesn't lead to anything anymore: he just likes to let people know he could make them fall apart if he wanted, even though he doesn't, because he has her now and doesn't need anyone else. Which is still new and exciting and exhilarating in a way Chloe hopes will never fade away.  
  
And so there she is, trying to remember which box of cereals Trixie said she wanted – she finds a new favorite every few months at this point, which is getting kind of frustrating but Chloe always loves to spoil her a little bit. Lucifer is lazily leaning over the shopping cart behind her, no doubt already fed up with the wait, but too proud to admit it yet.  
  
"You should go with the raspberry ones" a man tells her from the side, startling her. “They are delicious.”  
  
She turns to look at the guy, but she knows his face won't register in her mind once the brief, useless interaction is over. No one registers in her mind anymore – more precisely, no male specimen of the human race. Chloe doesn't know if it is the honeymoon feeling of the first few weeks of a new relationship, or some kind of sex daze (way more likely); all she knows is that ever since their first time, in her eyes Lucifer looks like a lion among ants, now. And it is still a flattering comparison. For humans.  
  
"Oh, okay" she says to the ant- ehm, man. “Well, thank you for the advice.”  
  
"You're welcome" he beams. “Uhm, do you- do you buy your groceries here often?”  
  
Chloe isn't used to people hitting on her: she knows she is a decent-looking woman, if not more, but she also knows she gives a very stern vibe that men usually don't like, especially if they are looking for a fling. But after all, she isn't in full Detective mode now, and she supposes she has become more relaxed recently. It's the sex, she knows. And the feeling of being loved by a celestial being who for some reason seems to have eyes only for her.  
  
"I suppose" she replies, shrugging. She doesn't know how to get rid of him politely, so she just turns around to leave and get back to where Lucifer is, but the guy doesn't seem to get the hint.  
  
"I hope to see you again, then! So you can tell me if you liked them.”  
  
Chloe doesn't exactly know where it comes from, but she blurts out “I’m sure I will, and so will my daughter". Another thing men looking for a fling don't like. _Terrible taxing burdens_. She knows he won't reply this time, so she finally turns to walk away, but stops in her tracks.  
  
Lucifer's eyes are focused on the guy, so focused that when he awkwardly walks away, they watch him go with intent. And they are red. Ruby red, fiery red, unnaturally red. Slumped on the shopping cart, his jaw set tight as he grinds his teeth together, he has his hands gripping the handle and looks like a predator ready to pounce, and Chloe knows the gazelle in question isn't remotely a match.  
  
It is hot, to see him like this. Hot in a way it isn't supposed to be, she imagines, but she is way past worrying about what is normal anymore, especially when it comes to Lucifer.  
  
She walks up to him and places a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. He startles, but he blinks instantly and the red is gone – as many times as she said that she can accept every side of him, he still doesn't show her the worst, asking her to leave the room every time a suspect pushes him over the edge. It is unnerving, and a bit heartbreaking, and Chloe plans on fixing it soon.  
  
"Are you okay?” she asks as she places the box of cereals in the cart – the murder weapon of the crime scene the supermarket could become if he decides the answer is no.  
  
"Absolutely" Lucifer says (he is a bit of a liar, deep down, but only when it comes to how he feels). “I hope you found what the little urchin wanted, ‘cause I'm not coming back here tomorrow if your offspring's greed isn't satisfied.”  
  
Chloe chuckles, letting him off the hook this time. But when she looks down at the handle of the shopping cart, she finds it bent, almost broken in half.  
  
*  
  
The second time it happens, they are at the movie theater for a late screening of some obnoxious action movie both Lucifer and Dan couldn't stop talking about the whole week. She had actually told Lucifer that it would have been better to go see it with her ex husband, given their shared passion, but the response had been something along the lines of “I'd rather go back to Hell than spend an evening alone with His Royal Douchness”.  
  
Chloe is in line to buy popcorn, but it isn't really a line, because they are basically the only people there. _Turns out the citizens of Los Angeles actually have taste_, she thinks in amusement. _Go figure_. Meanwhile, Lucifer has temporarily left her side to go to the bathroom.  
  
There is a man serving the popcorn at the counter, and after giving Chloe what she asked and accepting her payment, he stares at her with a spark in his eyes.  
  
"You're going to see a movie all alone?” he asks as he raises an eyebrow. “That seems like a shame to me.”  
  
"I'm actually with my boy- well, with someone" Chloe replies, catching herself. Lucifer has a bit of an issue with the B-word, as he calls it, so she doesn't like to define him that way if he doesn't agree. It's not that he isn't committed, exactly: mostly, he says that it sounds childish, and not serious enough to label what they are, so he'd rather not label it at all.  
  
The expression gives room to speculation though, and she realizes it too late.  
  
"If it's nothing serious, maybe I can be that someone next time" the guy says smugly. “I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun together.”  
  
Before Chloe can open her mouth to clarify, Lucifer seems to appear out of thin air at her side. He grabs the guy by the collar of his T-shirt and almost drags him across the counter, making her jump.  
  
"What did you say?” he sneers in his face, and as Chloe moves closer to be ready to intervene, she sees his eyes pulsing red in the exact same moment that the words leave his mouth.  
  
"D-dude, your eyes-"  
  
"I asked you a question" Lucifer growls, and oh, something is happening to his voice as well. It's lower, gravelly, threatening – it would be terrifying if it wasn't so sensual, and God if it isn't already sensual as it is. Chloe is almost fully convinced that his voice is all Lucifer actually needs to make a woman writhe in pleasure and desire and desperation, all he requires to make anyone come undone (the voice of an angel when he sings, the voice of the Devil when he fucks), and the rest is just a plus. _Ugh_. What has her life become?  
  
"I'm sorry, I- I just wanted to take a chance, you know?” the guy stutters, his hands in the air, already surrendering. He is scared, and Chloe is mildly aroused, and no, this isn't like her at all but whatever. “I assumed you guys were not exclusive.”  
  
The red in Lucifer's eyes turns up a notch – Chloe still doesn't understand the inner workings of it, because obviously it's not like it's supposed to make sense but she is still a woman of reason (right?), so of course she still tries to find some sort of explanation. So far, the only logic behind it is that the angrier Lucifer is, the redder his eyes become, especially when he is in the presence of someone who deserves to be punished.  
  
The fact that her lover feels the urge to punish a guy for flirting with her should be scary, too controlling, too possessive. Instead, it sends a shiver down Chloe's entire body.  
  
"And who gave you the right to _assume_ anything?” Lucifer hisses before releasing the guy, almost shoving him against the wall behind him.  
  
And of course, as if nothing happened, the Devil straightens his expensive jacket, turns to face Chloe with soft brown eyes, offers her his arm and says, “Shall we, Detective?”  
  
*  
  
The third time is when Chloe decides to actually do something about it.  
  
She is at Lux, sipping a cocktail while she sits at the bar. She is wearing a tight black dress Lucifer bought for her, because he loves it when she wears it, and most importantly loves to take it off of her. Once he is done holding court – because that's what it is, down here in his earthly kingdom – she knows the Prince of Darkness will lead her up to his penthouse and take her in his bed, and on the sofa, and on the piano, claiming her as he does almost every night.  
  
So she sits and waits and watches him with fascination as he shakes hands, grants favors, chitchats with men and women alike and she knows they all want him, because it's there, plain on their faces and in the way they look at him – and at her. Regulars at Lux know that Lucifer only cares about pleasing one woman now, and the girls especially are having a hard time accepting it, shooting her angry glances every time she stops by instead of going straight for the elevator. It’s actually thrilling, and most of the time she smiles proudly at them, because she _is_ proud.  
  
Lucifer, like the king that he still is, pays attention to everyone just enough to make them feel important, but never too much as to make them feel indispensable. He looks at Chloe every once in a while from the table where he sits – sometimes smiling sweetly, some other times grinning wickedly in anticipation. Everything about him is sharper in the dim lights of Lux; among a crowd of humans – subjects pleading for his benevolence, peasants begging for the honor to kiss their prince's ring – the lines of his body look harder, edgier, more defined, like a perfectly chiseled sculpture in a room full of half-made works of art, yet to be completed but destined never to be finished.  
  
It's a bit of a surprise, when a man slides onto the stool next to hers at the bar. She can sense him watching her, and briefly wonders if he is one of Lucifer's former lovers. The guys usually have a different approach than the girls: for some reason, they tend to congratulate her when they find out who she is, and it's a bit awkward but she prefers it to the random murderous glares. But no, this guy is watching her with desire, she knows it. He must be new there, because everyone knows better than to look at the Devil's love with desire in their eyes. It won't end well.  
  
"Can I offer you anything else to drink?” he asks, one elbow on the surface of the bar. His eyes flicker down to the deep plunging line of her decolletage, before he plasters a fake, interested smile on his face. It's clear he only wants to get in her pants.  
  
"No, thank you, I'm good" Chloe replies coldly, hoping he won't keep going – and secretly hoping he will, just a tiny bit.  
  
"You're beautiful, has anyone ever told you that?”  
  
_Oh, yes, you fool_, Chloe thinks to herself. _The Devil tells me that every time he moans my name._  
  
“A few times" she answers instead. She feels guilty though, guilty in leading him on even slightly, actually putting him in danger of being – at the very least – punched in the face by a very angry Lucifer. So she keeps going, “Look, it's better if you stop right there, ‘cause I'm-"  
  
"Oh, I know" he interrupts her, grinning. “You're the owner's girlfriend. Don't worry, I'm not jealous.”  
  
_But he is, and very much so._  
  
The guy scoots closer to her; he is actually starting to make her uncomfortable. He has that look in his eyes – the look of someone who would definitely try to jump her if there was no one there to witness it. Chloe is a trained policewoman and knows she can take him down easily enough, but she still doesn't like the feeling. She is sitting at an angle, so she can see Lucifer practically stir from his seat, as if he has some kind of sixth sense when it comes to her – maybe he does. He is tilting his head to the side, studying the situation, deciding whether he should intervene or not.  
  
"I think I'm gonna go now" Chloe declares, because as much as Lucifer's jealousy turns her on recently, she can sense that this guy is more than an innocent flirt; and if _she_ can sense it, Lucifer can surely smell it from a mile away.  
  
She starts to get up from the stool, but the guy grabs one of her wrists and keeps it firmly between their faces.  
  
"You're leaving already? Can't you at least get to know me?” he pleads. It enrages Chloe so much that in an instant, she snatches her arm away from his grip, takes her half-full glass from the bar and throws its content in his face. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lucifer moving, long strides crossing the whole expanse of Lux, shoving people aside. _Oh boy, are you in trouble_, she thinks as she pities the man in front of her.  
  
She turns back towards the guy, his hair now dripping wet. He looks furious, which doesn't scare her; mostly, it gives her satisfaction. _I've handled far worse scumbags than you_, she thinks.  
  
"Stupid little bitch" he mutters, taking a step towards her, but he won't reach her in time, she knows.  
  
Lucifer lifts him up with one hand and basically slams his body on the bar, scaring people away. Bartenders and patrons pretend to be occupied with something else and move to different areas of the club: this isn't the first time Lucifer has caused a scene, but this is his kingdom and they let him handle it as he pleases without even questioning his motives. So they probably don't see it, but Chloe does.  
  
The red of Lucifer's eyes burns hot like wildfire, leaving death and destruction in its wake, consuming the souls of the damned trapped within. His muscles strain against the confines of his shirt, yearning to use the full amount of their strength – he is like an elastic band ready to snap, shaking with the haunting fury of the Underworld.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing, exactly?” he whispers hoarsely, his hand now moving to tighten around the guy's throat. The man is panting and trembling in terror: he was defiant at the thought of stealing the owner's girlfriend, but he is clearly regretting it now, because said owner is looking at him like he's about to rip the ground open under his dangling feet and have the Earth swallow him whole until he sinks into its darkest depths.  
  
"I'm sorry man, I was just playing around with her! It was a joke-"  
  
"You touched her against her will" Lucifer cuts him off, his face inching closer to the man's. He lets go of his throat to grab his chin harshly, his whole hand keeping the guy's jaw in place before turning it towards Chloe forcefully, eyes ablaze with the intensity of a thousand suns. “Apologize. _Now_.”  
  
"I- I’m sorry for grabbing you" the man almost sobs, looking at Chloe as if to say _Help me_.  
  
"And?” Lucifer prompts, his fingers squeezing – Chloe knows they will leave a bruise, a bruise in the shape of Lucifer’s rage.  
  
"And for insulting you" the guy concludes, panting. “Can you let me go now?!”  
  
It takes a moment for Lucifer to regain his composure, but he doesn't manage to do it completely, not like the previous times. He blinks away the red and releases his hold on the idiot, but he is quietly shaking, fists balled up at his sides.  
  
"Lucifer" Chloe whispers, taking a step towards him, but before she can continue he is turning away and walking swiftly up the stairs, to the elevator. He doesn't want her to see him lose control, but maybe it's about time.  
  
So after a moment of hesitation, Chloe follows him.  
  
*  
  
She finds him sitting on his sofa, holding a glass of whiskey on the armrest. One of his legs is tapping madly against the floor, his gaze fixated on a distant point in the space in front of him, or on nothing at all. He is way too lost in his own thoughts to even notice Chloe stepping in, so when she enters his field of vision, he startles and automatically tightens his grip on the glass, shattering it.  
  
"Bloody hell" he curses under his breath as the whiskey trickles down his hand, mixing with his own blood, the blood only she can involuntarily draw from his otherwise immortal, unbreakable body.  
  
"Lucifer!” Chloe shouts, immediately getting closer to inspect the damage. There are tiny pieces of glass stuck in the flesh of his palm, but of course, when Lucifer opens his mouth to complain, what comes out is “Such a waste of good booze”.  
  
"Don't move, I'll be right back" Chloe reassures him. She runs to the bathroom and comes back with tweezers and a medical kit. Kneeling in front of him, she plucks the fragments from his skin, disinfects the cuts and wraps his palm with a bandage before planting a kiss at the very center of it. He relaxes at that, just a little.  
  
Chloe stands up from the floor and sits down on the couch next to him. She gets rid of her heels and tucks her feet under her body, finally comfortable, finally alone with her lover.  
  
"Do you want to talk about how you feel?” she tries.  
  
"Not particularly" Lucifer says, not meeting her eyes. Then, something makes him pause and turn towards her. “How do _you_ feel? Are you okay?”  
  
Chloe scoffs. “Of course I am. Do you think I would let a guy like that scare me?”  
  
"Still,” Lucifer says, pensive. “He shouldn't have touched you.”  
  
Chloe sees an opening, and as the brave detective that she is, doesn't back away from it.  
  
"And why is that?” she asks, one arm resting on the back of the couch to support her head as she stares at him. He looks confused by the question, and shifts his gaze from his own bandaged hand to her face, searching.  
  
"Because you didn't want him to" he replies eventually, and yes, well, that is fairly obvious. Chloe swallows, twirls a strand of her own hair around one finger.  
  
"What about you? Why didn't _you_ want him to?”  
  
Lucifer's jaw tightens, and for a split second Chloe could swear she sees a flicker of red in his irises, but it might be a trick of the light. It's so quiet around them now, away from the crowd and the music, so everything feels more intense, even the slightest shift of their bodies on the leather sofa. Lucifer is still staring at her, clearly trying to find a way to phrase what he's thinking so deeply.  
  
"Because no one steals from the Devil” he says eventually, not breaking eye contact with her, and Chloe shivers, which Lucifer apparently takes as a bad sign. “Don't get me wrong, I- I know you're not a _thing_ and that I don't _own_ you, but… but Chloe… you are _mine_.”  
  
It’s the way he says the word, desperately, as if he's clinging to it in a storm, that makes her lose control. Chloe surges forward to crush her lips against his, swallowing his sound of surprise. She moves on top of him, straddling him, her hands fisting in his hair as they devour each other with their mouths – and for the first time she feels like she is claiming him as much as he is claiming her. Because she is his, she can't deny, but Lucifer is hers, also.  
  
Lucifer’s hands push her dress up her body; it's already so tight that when she straddled him, it stopped covering her legs, but now he is sneaking his hands underneath it to press her back against him, one hand all the way up to her shoulder to press her down instead. He is hungry for her already, always, his mouth hot and demanding as he licks and kisses and bites at her lips and tongue.  
  
As they kiss, one of his hands leave her back to push one strap of her dress down her shoulder, revealing her breast, no bra in the way. He cups it from the side, moaning softly in her mouth, rocking up and into her like a wave that crashes against her body again, and again, and again, each time harder than the one before, and in the ocean of his hands Chloe would gladly drown. But she is a woman on a mission, so she gently moves his hand away from her breast and replaces it with her own. When she interrupts the kiss to sit back on his lap and looks at him, massaging herself deliberately, Lucifer swallows so hard she can actually hear it.  
  
"So tell me,” she purrs as she holds his stare, “what would happen if someone tried to touch me like this?”  
  
One eyebrow raised in amusement, Lucifer grins in that wicked, devilish way only he knows how. He is the big bad wolf, when he does it; the madman everyone tells you to stay away from, the monster under children's beds that will take them away if they misbehave. But Chloe knows stories are just stories, and Satan, as it turns out, is not so bad after all; or maybe she has been officially corrupted by temptation and God knows where her soul will end up eventually, but she is way past caring.  
  
Lucifer wets his lips with his tongue before answering.  
  
"I'd break their wrists" he says, one hand sneaking up to wrap around her throat lightly as the other holds her by the hair - it's a dangerous and incredibly possessive gesture and Chloe loves it, her throat clenching in his grip as she feels her own blood pumping against his palm.  
  
"Mmm, I see. And what would happen,” she keeps going, her other hand trailing down her body and into her panties, “if someone tried to kiss me down here, where you love it the most?”  
  
She touches herself, but she doesn't get a lot of pleasure out of it, too focused on Lucifer's reaction as his pupils go black and his breath hitches in his throat. He lets go of her neck to move her hand away and push his own index finger in. Chloe clenches around it because it fits perfectly there, even if it's a bit rough tonight. She keens, high-pitched and desperate, as Lucifer starts to move it in and out.  
  
"I'd cut off their tongue" he whispers against her lips, kissing her raw while his other hand still holds her in place from the back of her head. It's… well, it's morbid, what he said, and wrong on many levels, and Chloe isn't even remotely done pushing him over the edge. She breaks away from the kiss.  
  
"And what would happen if someone tried to fuck me?"  
  
It's happening and she knows it, because that simple thought is going to drive Lucifer mad with jealousy. Red erupts from his eyes like lava from the crater of a volcano, melting away whatever shred of control he was still holding onto. He pushes another finger in her as the flames of eternal damnation dance in his eyes.  
  
"I'd kill them" he breathes with that low voice of his, and Chloe knows he doesn't truly mean it, for that is a rule he forces himself not to break, but she also knows he would come close to it. Without warning, Lucifer’s free hand moves from her hair to the small of her back to support her as he flips them over, slamming her on the empty couch before covering her body with his.  
  
She is trapped underneath him but doesn't even want to get away, ever. Lucifer eases his fingers out of her, making her moan at the loss, and with one hand pins both of her wrists against the armrest. With the other, he shoves her panties down her legs, then unbuckles his belt and pushes his trousers all the way to his knees. He is naked underneath, of course, because apparently underwear is not a thing in Hell, or something.  
  
Chloe flexes her wrists against his grip, reveling in how strong he is, how easily he could hurt her but never does. She opens her legs in a silent invitation, a sacrificial lamb who doesn't struggle nor shy away from her destiny, not anymore. She feels a bit ridiculous with her dress all wrinkled and pushed up her torso, one breast still covered and the other visible, but Lucifer is looking at her with a mix of reverence and hunger and she feels beautiful.  
  
They both look wild and desperate, half-clothed as they are, and Lucifer's eyes are still red when he fills her in one long push, settling between her legs as he breathes heavily. His black hair is messy, slowly curling up at the edges, and the flames in his eyes stand out from the pale skin of his face. He looks otherworldly, because he is; a creature of the dark emerging from the shadows of the night to prey on the innocent, but Chloe isn't innocent anymore.  
  
Lucifer bucks up into her, grinning as he takes in the way Chloe's mouth opens, her face scrunched up in pleasure. He drapes himself on her completely, his muscular chest brushing against her breasts, both of his hands holding her wrists in place now. He kisses and bites at her ear and neck as he thrusts, sucking bruises into her sensitive skin – he loves to mark her every now and then, so much so that Chloe has to wear scarves for whole days sometimes. On those days, Lucifer stares at her from across the room at the precinct and his eyes get hooded as they focus on her covered neck, stripping her bare; some other times, he actually brushes his fingers on the side of her neck as he walks past her desk, making her shiver with pain and desire as the hickeys throb under his feather-like touch.  
  
"Do you actually think about it?” he asks, whispering into her skin as Chloe arches up to meet his thrusts. “About someone else taking you like this?”  
  
He lifts his face to look at her, genuinely waiting for an answer, as if that is even remotely possible with the Devil in her bed.  
  
"N-no, never" Chloe stutters, but Lucifer doesn't seem completely satisfied just yet.  
  
"Do you think someone else can fuck you like I do? Slow and deep and exactly the way you need it?” he insists, blood-red eyes pinning her to the spot just as hard as his hands around her wrists. “Or kiss you like I do? _Love_ you like I do?”  
  
Chloe knows there are deep insecurities behind these questions, behind the jealousy, behind the way Lucifer clings to her at night as if she's a lifeline and he's sinking to the bottom of the sea. She knows it's time to end this, to stop provoking him, because it would break her heart if he actually thought she could leave him, ever.  
  
"No one can, Lucifer" she swears, and this time when she struggles against his grip, he lets her go. She wraps her arms around him as tightly as her legs, urging him to go deeper even though there isn't any deeper to go. “No one, I promise.”  
  
The red swirls and flutters, until it slowly fades away. Lucifer presses their foreheads together, stopping for a moment. Chloe squirms at the sensation of having him inside, unmoving, but she knows he needs a pause.  
  
"I _am_ yours" she confirms, cupping his cheeks with her hands. “And _you_ are mine.”  
  
"Yes" Lucifer breathes, dragging the word out, turning it into an oath of devotion. “Yes, yes, _yes._”  
  
It's like she turned a switch, and the Devil is an angel now: peppering her face with kisses as he moves inside her, stroking one of her legs with his hand as the other one caresses her hair, dipping down to take her nipple into his mouth sweetly as he rocks her to ecstasy. They moan each other’s names like they hold all the secrets of the world, because there is nothing else to say; nothing else to do beside clinging to each other against the raging storm of life outside, and Death when she will arrive, for Chloe at least.  
  
She comes with Lucifer's name on her lips – she always does. He smiles brightly then, like every time, like the star of the morning that he is. Only then he increases the pace of his thrusts, faster and rougher as he needs it to be, and Chloe is sensitive but lets him, lazily running her hands up and down his clothed back, whispering sweet nonsense in his ear. He gets lost in it sometimes, and needs her to tell him that it's okay to let go; somehow, she has the feeling he still thinks he doesn't deserve it.  
  
"I've got you, Lucifer" she whispers when she feels him tense up, almost there, almost home. “I've got you. Let go.”  
  
It's half a moan and half a sob the one that erupts from his mouth and Chloe swallows it in a kiss, rocking with him as he shudders and comes. He looks so innocent, right after, the eyes of a child under thick, soft eyelashes – vulnerable, and human. He kisses her like she's something precious and divine, then eases out of her and helps her sit on the couch next to him. Chloe curls into a ball at his side, and he wraps an arm around her shoulder, gently moving the strap of her dress where it's supposed to be.  
  
"I love you" he says, taking one of her hands in his to kiss it.  
  
"I love you too.”  
  
And as they lie there, looking at each other in silence, Chloe vows: _No one will ever steal you from me, either._


End file.
